Read Online Compromising the Marquess by Wendy Soliman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Wendy Soliman
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the locality blind to the advantages of such a match.
Sir Percy’s party was the last to arrive. Hal barely noticed Augusta Wantage and her quite disgusting air of self-importance. He spared just a few words for Sir Percy, whom he rather liked. He couldn’t remember what he said to Bethany Elliott, who was a very pretty little thing. His eyes were all for her sister, mainly because he was unable to believe the transformation in her.
Miss Elliott certainly couldn’t lay claim to beauty—her sister left her standing in that respect—but Hal had beautiful women thrown at him everywhere he went. None of them had yet secured his interest in the way this little tease had so effortlessly managed. Leah Elliott’s figure was curvaceous, the hint of breasts he’d detected at their last meeting now obligingly displayed for his lazy perusal. Unlike her sister, who was unable to conceal her nerves, Miss Elliott appeared perfectly at her ease, silver eyes alight with curiosity as she levelled her gaze upon Hal’s face.
“Ah, Leah, there you are!” Flick hugged each of the sisters. “You look wonderful, both of you.”
Both girls dipped curtsies and exclaimed over Flick’s gown.
“Hal,” Flick said, appearing to recall that he was standing, waiting patiently for an introduction. “May I present Miss Elliott and Miss Bethany Elliott, my particular friends. Leah, Beth, this is my beastly brother, the Marquess of Denby.”
As the girls curtsied, Bethany’s eyes were demurely lowered. Not so Leah’s. They had yet to waver from his face, but her gaze was not full of the hope and blind adoration he’d become immune to over the years. Hers was more an expression of curiosity, as though she was trying to record his features to memory. Hal took Leah’s hand and lifted it to his lips. He expected her to simper, blush or let forth with a stream of nervous chatter. Such reactions were normal when he focused his attention on any young lady, but it seemed Miss Elliott was made of sterner stuff. She held his gaze, watching him with unnerving stillness as his lips brushed the back of her gloved hand.
“Miss Elliott,” he said, acknowledging her poise by breaking eye contact first. “My sister has told me much about you.” He turned to her sister and inclined his head. “Miss Bethany. You are both welcome to my house.”
“Come, Leah, I have need of you.” Lady Wantage’s imperious tone quieted the entire room. “Don’t monopolize the marquess,” she said, without lowering her voice. “It’s very bad form.”
Hal watched her walk away, the sway of her slender hips bringing to mind just how snugly they’d fitted into the breeches she’d worn the other night. He shook his head, reminding himself that his only interest in the chit was to discover why she attended mills in a poor disguise as a lad. Absolutely nothing more.
“Our young lad does well as a girl,” Rob said, siding up to Hal and following the direction of his gaze.
“What’s her game, Rob?” Hal took a glass of champagne from the tray a footman proffered and sipped at it. “I’d give a very great deal to know.”
“Might be pleasant trying to find out.”
“Penniless virgins aren’t my usual fare.”
“Needs must, big brother,” Rob said, chuckling. “Needs must.”
“Talk to her sister. See what you can find out about their life before they came to Denby.”
“Looks like I’ve been beaten to it,” he said, nodding towards Bethany Elliott. Gabriel had detached her from the rest of the party and appeared quite taken with her.
“So it does. No matter, slip Gabe the word. I need to know if we’ve let a fox into the henhouse.”
“Will do.”
Hal’s attention was taken up by one of his guests. They spent half an hour in the drawing room, drinking champagne, conducting the type of polite social discourse that bored Hal rigid. Lady Wantage walked about the room, glass in hand, examining everything with a proprietorial air that
Sir Percy’s party was the last to arrive. Hal barely noticed Augusta Wantage and her quite disgusting air of self-importance. He spared just a few words for Sir Percy, whom he rather liked. He couldn’t remember what he said to Bethany Elliott, who was a very pretty little thing. His eyes were all for her sister, mainly because he was unable to believe the transformation in her.
Miss Elliott certainly couldn’t lay claim to beauty—her sister left her standing in that respect—but Hal had beautiful women thrown at him everywhere he went. None of them had yet secured his interest in the way this little tease had so effortlessly managed. Leah Elliott’s figure was curvaceous, the hint of breasts he’d detected at their last meeting now obligingly displayed for his lazy perusal. Unlike her sister, who was unable to conceal her nerves, Miss Elliott appeared perfectly at her ease, silver eyes alight with curiosity as she levelled her gaze upon Hal’s face.
“Ah, Leah, there you are!” Flick hugged each of the sisters. “You look wonderful, both of you.”
Both girls dipped curtsies and exclaimed over Flick’s gown.
“Hal,” Flick said, appearing to recall that he was standing, waiting patiently for an introduction. “May I present Miss Elliott and Miss Bethany Elliott, my particular friends. Leah, Beth, this is my beastly brother, the Marquess of Denby.”
As the girls curtsied, Bethany’s eyes were demurely lowered. Not so Leah’s. They had yet to waver from his face, but her gaze was not full of the hope and blind adoration he’d become immune to over the years. Hers was more an expression of curiosity, as though she was trying to record his features to memory. Hal took Leah’s hand and lifted it to his lips. He expected her to simper, blush or let forth with a stream of nervous chatter. Such reactions were normal when he focused his attention on any young lady, but it seemed Miss Elliott was made of sterner stuff. She held his gaze, watching him with unnerving stillness as his lips brushed the back of her gloved hand.
“Miss Elliott,” he said, acknowledging her poise by breaking eye contact first. “My sister has told me much about you.” He turned to her sister and inclined his head. “Miss Bethany. You are both welcome to my house.”
“Come, Leah, I have need of you.” Lady Wantage’s imperious tone quieted the entire room. “Don’t monopolize the marquess,” she said, without lowering her voice. “It’s very bad form.”
Hal watched her walk away, the sway of her slender hips bringing to mind just how snugly they’d fitted into the breeches she’d worn the other night. He shook his head, reminding himself that his only interest in the chit was to discover why she attended mills in a poor disguise as a lad. Absolutely nothing more.
“Our young lad does well as a girl,” Rob said, siding up to Hal and following the direction of his gaze.
“What’s her game, Rob?” Hal took a glass of champagne from the tray a footman proffered and sipped at it. “I’d give a very great deal to know.”
“Might be pleasant trying to find out.”
“Penniless virgins aren’t my usual fare.”
“Needs must, big brother,” Rob said, chuckling. “Needs must.”
“Talk to her sister. See what you can find out about their life before they came to Denby.”
“Looks like I’ve been beaten to it,” he said, nodding towards Bethany Elliott. Gabriel had detached her from the rest of the party and appeared quite taken with her.
“So it does. No matter, slip Gabe the word. I need to know if we’ve let a fox into the henhouse.”
“Will do.”
Hal’s attention was taken up by one of his guests. They spent half an hour in the drawing room, drinking champagne, conducting the type of polite social discourse that bored Hal rigid. Lady Wantage walked about the room, glass in hand, examining everything with a proprietorial air that
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